


It Could Be Worse

by hekle



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Face-Fucking, Hand Job, Locked In, Loss of Powers, M/M, Oral Sex, Some Humor, Teamwork
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-27
Updated: 2016-02-27
Packaged: 2018-05-23 11:03:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6114511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hekle/pseuds/hekle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hawkeye awakens as a captive at an outdated Hydra base with Captain America who is seemingly no longer a super soldier.  Can Hawkeye save Cap and plan their escape?</p>
            </blockquote>





	It Could Be Worse

Clint opened his eyes and shut them again almost immediately. He wanted this to be a bad dream, like, really, _really_. Sure, every time things went south and he was caught somewhere he wished it were a dream, even that time he and Nat got lost in Disneyland, but this time... Oh, _this_ time, for sure.

He looked around again, it was still an antiquated cell. Frigid air temperature? Check. Bars on the one window, about 15 feet up? Check. Flickering, buzzing light bulb in a caged fixture hanging on a chain? Check. Thick steel door with sliding window that opens from the outside? Check. Industrial toilet mounted to the wall? Negative. 

He sighed. Fine, so it's an asylum cell and not a prison cell. It could be worse. The window seemed to be open, that explained the cold and the swinging light. He glanced again to make sure the observation window in the door was shut, then checked for aftermarket cameras mounted about. None, good. This could be a lot worse.

A soft groan echoed up from the floor. Unless that’s Banner, or Stark in his armor, this was not an improvement. Tagalongs make escape more difficult. He rolled over cautiously. Who the hell was that? A naked, scrawny, beaten and shivering blond...kid? He can’t be more than 20, tops. “Uh... kid? You OK?” No answer. Dammit.

Clint swung off the bed, knelt down, rolled the kid over and shrank back reflexively. The kid looked a bit like...Steve. Was it possible Captain America had a kid, held captive by Hydra? Who the hell would his mother be? No, no way Steve would have a kid out of wedlock. He probably wears 3 condoms, one atop the other, _if_ he put it in at all. Not to mention his moral compass would have been spinning like a top if one of his admittedly few lady companions somehow got knocked up.

“Cap? Cap, is that you?” Clint held his breath for a moment, waiting for a sign. The kid’s eyes fluttered open revealing an all-too-familiar pair of baby blues. As Clint sighed, an expletive escaped his lips. “Fuck.”

“Language.” Cap uttered before falling into a coughing fit.

It really was him. Shit, it was him. Things were now bad. “We gotta get you into this bed, Cap. You’re freezing.” Clint picked him up, noted a substantial drop in weight as well as size. Not good. How the hell did they un-super soldier him? He gently laid Steve down and covered up with the scrappy wool blanket. Would it be warm enough? Probably not, damn wind.

“So, Steve...listen. Uh…” How to say this? “Look, don’t freak out, but…” Can’t do it. “It’s really cold in here and we only have the one moth-eaten blanket so…” Stalling. “I’m going to lay down next to you until you warm up a bit.” Nailed it...if the goal was to avoid telling him anything.

Steve only nodded and rolled onto his side, facing the wall. Clint wondered if he knew already, and was ashamed. “Why don’t you face this way? You should, you know, warm your face.” ‘You should warm your face’? Lame, Barton, really lame.

Steve rolled back over as Clint slid into the bed. It had seemed small a few minutes ago, but somehow they both fit fine. “I’m going to wrap my arms around you, for warmth.” Clint, you’re talking to Captain America here. He’s not some random kid, he understands fine without the explanation.

“Thanks.” Steve said, and pressed closely. Clint flushed as the frail form moved closer, it was almost...girlish. Back in the moment pal, you have to tell him.

“Cap, there isn’t a good way to say this.” Their eyes locked. “I think Hydra may have found a way to counter the super soldier serum.” He felt Steve tense and watched his eyes dart wildly, looking for some sign of jest. “I’m sorry.”

 

Steve jerked away and frantically started examining himself. Spaghetti arms, noodle legs, cuts still oozing, bruises developing and skin pale as snow. Steve felt his face. No more broad chin or strong nose. It sunk in, loud and clear. He was ‘skinny Steve’ again, just as he was at 18 years old back in Brooklyn.

Clint saw the shock set in and felt his friend shut down. Instinctively he reached out and pulled Steve close. “It’s alright pal. We’ll figure it out.” He stroked the short blond hair, felt the now smaller man fold into his arms without response. Not good. Think, Barton, think! You’ve read the file, there has to be something in there that would help.

Project Rebirth injected Cap with nitramene, doused him with vita-rays - basically electromagnetic radiation - and **boom!** Tall, blond and American Icon was born. Hydra - and others - have wanted Cap’s blood for _years_ because the serum is still present...or so they believe. Clint lifted one of Steve’s arms and frowned at the IV insertion sites. So that’s it. They drained him.

Serum is in the blood. Electromagnetic radiation stimulates or stabilizes the serum. The world’s only known vita-ray machine was trashed in 1943 and no one has replicated it successfully. Well, not known at his clearance level anyway. Still, there had to be some way to jump-start Cap. Where was Banner when you need him? **Think!**

Electromagnetic radiation is put off by lots of things, even people. If he could get Steve warmed up enough, maybe, _maybe_ , it would trigger enough thermal radiation to kick-start his metabolism again. Worth a shot anyway, but without any heat sources other than each other...

“Cap, I got an idea, but uh… Well, I’m not sure…” _Don’t_ tell him he won’t like it. “If we can boost your core temperature back up, I think we can get you back up to speed.”

Steve looked up at Clint, obviously miserable. “What’s the plan?”

Deep breath, straight face. “You need to have an orgasm.” He watched Steve’s eyes widen. “I’m serious. All we have for heat is each other, sex is the best option. Honestly, it’ll go faster if you let me do it.” Awkward truth.

Steve’s eyes closed, Clint couldn't tell what was thinking, but couldn’t afford to let him refuse.

“Cap. this is all we’ve got... So, is an ‘old-fashioned’ okay?” Not too embarrassing as awkward, grudgingly consensual sex between teammates goes, right?

Steve raised an eyebrow and a slight smile curled along his lips. “You have a bar under the bed?.”

Okay, back in Cap’s day they didn’t call them that apparently. “It’s not a drink, cornball. You know... ‘I can give you a ‘hand’ with that’.” No sign of recognition. “A ‘Handy J’?” Nothing. He sighed to himself. “Would a hand job be alright with you?” **Click.** Yay, the light went on for that one.

“Clint, I don’t know about this…” Steve blushed and buried his face in the mattress.

Clint couldn’t help but smile and felt his cock twitch approvingly. Not now, this isn’t about you! “You can keep your eyes closed and pretend someone else is doing it, that’s not a problem.” Strictly business right?

Steve’s face flushed again. “I...don’t think I could do that, Clint.” The familiar sound of righteousness drummed in his voice. “It wouldn't feel proper.”

Clint tried not to roll his eyes, the man had to loosen up or this is never going to work. “Well, that’s okay. You don’t have to. Have you...uh, been, with a guy before?”

Steve blushed and snapped his eyes down again. “N-no.” 

Never heard him stammer before, that’s kinda cute. “No problem, I got this.”

Steve looked at him curiously. “Have..have you?” He bit his lip. “You’ve, you…?”

Adorable, but awkward. “Yeah Cap. Every S.H.I.E.L.D. espionage agent has to be prepared to do anything - or anyone - to ensure the success of the mission.” Despite his higher clearance level, it was now obvious why Fury didn’t put Steve on a spy team. “It’s just a part of the job. We don’t have to like it, but if it needs to be done we gotta do it. Frankly, we get asked to do worse things.”

Steve sighed. “I’m sorry to hear that.” He paused. “Natasha...do they make her… Does she have to...?”

“Yeah, all of us. Everybody.” It would probably be best to shut down this conversation. “Don’t ask me what we have to do during deep cover ops, okay?”

Steve nodded.

“Anyway, don’t focus on that. It’s irrelevant except it means I have some experience in doing this, so all you have to do is relax and we can make this happen.” Saying it like that isn’t going to help. “Try your best to imagine we’re back at your apartment, or mine. Mine looks more like this, anyway.”

Steve chuckled, Clint smiled. It was true though.

“That’s good, that’s the attitude we need... Now, turn on your side to face the wall and snuggle yourself tight up against me.” Steve, still remarkably red in the face, complied without further complaint. Clint’s cock gave another surge as Steve’s head came to rest on his arm and his ass slid against his belt. He swallowed a moan.

“Okay, I’m going to start now.” Just business. “If I brush anything that hurts, say something.” He felt Steve nod.

Deep breath. Clint slid an arm around Steve’s waist and moved his face down to the back of Steve’s neck, letting his breath warm the skin and felt him shudder. Encouraged, Clint brought his nose down to stroke the back of Steve’s ear, caressing it softly. Sure he heard a small moan escape Steve’s lips, he slid his tongue along the earlobe and onto his neck.

Steve bucked into him and Clint’s cock throbbed again. He pulled Steve tighter, gently rubbed against his ass while taking his earlobe into his mouth and sucking on it. He heard Steve’s hands reach out to brace against the wall. Sweet spot found.

He tugged deeply on the ear and slid his hand down from Steve’s waist and onto his hip, gently tracing the bony line. Removing his mouth, he whispered “Take a deep breath, Cap.” Once he felt the man steel up, he pulled the ear back in, suckling eagerly and dropped his hand to Steve’s cock, wrapping his fingers around it. Clint was a pleasantly surprised find it semi-hard. Steve gasped at his touch and Clint ground his cock against him once more.

Clint began soft, short strokes down the small shaft, delighted to find it grow a little with each motion. Clint nuzzled Steve’s neck and planted a few small kisses from behind his ear down to his shoulder. He returned to the neck, slid his tongue out and traced a little star before latching on with a gentle bite and full intention to leave a hickey. Steve cried out in a happy tone, Clint rewarded him by strengthening his grip and moving a little faster.

As Steve continued to grow, Clint pumped him in a steady rhythm, gently lapping at his neck, ear and shoulders. Reaching peak fullness, he felt Steve start thrusting into his hand, ass banging into his cock at every pull back. Clint groaned quietly to himself and picked up the pace.

Steve’s shoulders locked as he continued to brace against the wall. His breath quickened and back made small arcs of pleasure as Clint maintained pace. Moans became as regular as breath and Clint felt Steve’s cock begin to pulse furiously. He increased his grip and pounded rapidly, biting into Steve’s shoulder, hoping to push him over the edge.

Steve cried out, his cock twitching wildly in Clint's hand, but there was no ejaculation and no sudden transformation back into the strapping 6 foot 2 inch Sentinel of Liberty.

Clint was dumbstruck. “Steve. Is, uh, that...‘normal’ for you?”

Steve looked over his shoulder, face flushed again. “I do have ‘super stamina’. It... you know…” Clint’s eyes widened and Steve quickly turned to face the wall again.

Clint made a mental note to tell Nat about _that_ little fact at a later time. “No problem. You close your eyes and roll onto your back. I’m going to crawl over you and…” Suck on your lollipop? “...You know what a blow job is, right?”

Steve choked back a chuckle. “Yes, but I don’t know if you should…” He fell silent as Clint flipped him over.

“Trust me old man,” That felt wrong. Moving on. “This is for your own good.” Clint straddled Steve, legs pinning down his shoulders in classic ‘69’ style. Maybe not the best position to put a supposed straight guy in, but it would keep him from wriggling away. Clint then seized the Captain’s shaft and slipped into his mouth.

Steve shuddered at the sudden plunge into the warm, wet depths of Clint’s mouth, groaning as the tongue began to stroke under the crown. When Clint pushed all the way down his length while running his tongue up and down the thick vein, Steve yelped in surprise. Clint made a muffled chuckle and another mental note.

Steve grabbed helplessly at the mattress while Clint’s mouth continued its onslaught, pulling off with a tight lip lock and sliding back on with a firm tongue curl riding its way down to the base again. And plenty of spit.

When Steve began to twitch again, Clint sucked as tightly as he could and twisted his head back and forth slightly, trying to tease him to the brink, but still it stood rock hard.

Clint took him deeply once more and swallowed, causing Steve to writhe beneath him. Another sweet spot found. He looped his hands under Steve’s legs, mouth firmly on his shaft, alternating between short drags up and down - swallowing the length again - forcing Steve to buck into him, beginning a full-on face fuck. Clint didn’t mind. Not at all.

Steve grabbed around Clint’s middle and held him tightly, embarrassed but unable to stop himself from driving his hips into his friend’s mouth. It felt tight and hot and _good_. He felt all of his muscles run hot, his veins felt like they were on fire. He continued to thrust, need building wildly within. Everywhere felt white-hot and he needed to release.

Clint melted into Steve’s fucking and savored the burn and heat as the cock pushed in and out of his wet mouth. It began to swell further and Clint continued to bury it as far as it would go, concentrating on relaxing his throat and taking the thrusts without a whimper. A heavy salty taste hit his tongue, signalling Clint it was time to pull out all the stops. This _had_ to work, and Steve _had_ to come.

Taking Steve’s cock again and locking his lips tight around the base, Clint rapidly worked his tongue along the lower shaft while reaching a hand up to squeeze Steve’s balls before massaging them. Steve groaned and bucked deeply again. Clint lightly dragged his teeth along Steve’s shaft and swore he felt it double in size, balls too. Steve growled and seized Clint roughly, rolling them both over; Clint now on the bottom, having his mouth drilled with cock.

Clint loosened his jaw and accepted the assault, slurping as the shaft worked itself in and out of his throat. He wondered if he was crazy, but Steve’s ass was looking more taut and muscled than a moment ago. Clint raised his hand and ran a finger along his wet bottom lip and gathered some of the plentiful spit and pre-cum for the final move.

Steve buried his cock down into Clint again, nerve endings on fire and fueled with a madness that was taking over his body. He wasn’t sure if he would stay sane if this kept up much longer. Again and again, he drove into his friend’s mouth with all of his might, begging for release in his mind, not noticing the whimpers that escaped out loud.

Clint felt Steve’s skin burning up, another flood of precum entered his mouth. Now or never. When the next thrust came, Clint slid his slicked finger into Steve’s ass, pushing him over the edge.

Steve felt every cell in his body explode like a firework as his release rushed out of him and into Clint’s willing mouth, his teammate swallowing his seed as fast as it pumped forth. He sagged with relief and slowly the fire left his body. He took a deep breath, a very deep breath, and noticed his lungs didn’t hurt anymore. He looked down, no more spaghetti arms. Clint had done it!

Rolling off and sitting up he glanced down at Clint, who smiled like the Cheshire Cat. “And Stark says I don’t understand science.” Clint quipped, discreetly wiping the back of his hand across his mouth.

Steve chuckled. “Now what?”

Clint shrugged. “How bout we get the hell out of here and go get a drink?”

Steve smiled, “Deal. I owe you an ‘old-fashioned’.”

Clint blushed and decided he’d wonder later what that really meant.

**Author's Note:**

> Beta read by Sand ( http://archiveofourown.org/users/sand ) - thankee sai!


End file.
